Bibliophile
This one was put in a jacket
Binding cracked, chapter three now removable
As if its words, quite unnecessary
Could be dispensed of entirely
Dependent on the reader’s mood
These time-yellowed pages, a second skin
I admit much smoother than my own
She carries her own set of scars
A coffee stain on page seventy-three I could
Attribute to the dog but I’d be lying
Lines on margin notes
Small doodled stars and open
Circles perhaps she is
More pocked than I
The years I have studied her
Her form now safely shelved
This simple covering
Betrays not her condition
Both well worn
And well loved
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For L., now five years mine
Recumbent Anubis
Ears piqued to grasp the breath of a dying dream
Creases of skin and hair black as the dead of night
Black as the Nile soil from which you came
Jackal Terror Guardian at the Gate
Take this heart to the scales of Ma'at and weigh it
Is there truth enough in me
Love enough in these deeds
Mercy me Anubis
As I follow you through the dark
To the tombs of my Fathers
My Kings and my priests
Scavenge this remnant to the Kingdom of Osiris
Smile on me with feral eye
Something so familiar
My companion in this world
Guide in the next
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